The Darker Side of Freddy Jones
by wyverna
Summary: Sex. Language. Violence. Other.


* * *

"_..And it'll happen once again, you'll turn to a friend _

_Someone who understands and sees through the master plan _

_But everybody's gone_

_And you've been there for too long to face this on your own _

_Well, I guess this is growing up..."_

* * *

_**The Darker Side of Freddy Jones.**_

Everything had changed, Freddy reflected. He turned over in the dark tour bus, wondering how best to get rid of the naked blonde by his side. She'd been good for the night, but they were always so clingy. Did this mean something to him? He'd felt that too, right? No, he _hadn't_ felt anything. He never did. What was the point? It meant nothing at all. Completely meaningless. It had been much easier at the beginning, when the band had just been starting out, and the girls' stories had still been important to the press. They'd slept with him just to sell their story. He liked that. It meant that neither of them had feelings. But then he'd got his reputation, and the press weren't interested. You slept with Freddy Jones? Join the club.

By 'the band' he didn't mean the School of Rock, of course. No, things had _certainly_ changed in ten years. The band –_ his _band – was now the Chia Elves. Yes. The Chia Elves. Not the best name in the world, not by a long shot, but they'd all flipped a coin for the naming privilege and, well, Silver had won. There were five of them in the band; guitarist, drummer, singer, bass guitarist and keyboardist. Silver was the bassist. It definitely brought back memories, having a female bassist, but those times were long gone, and besides, Silver Estelle was _nothing_ like Katie Brown. Zack was the guitarist, one of Freddy's only childhood friends that didn't refuse to acknowledge his existence, and a guy called Matt was the keyboardist. Then there was Victor, who sang, and Freddy played drums.

He knew that he _was_ the band. Freddy Jones was far and away most popular, with both the guys _and_ girls. He was a gay sex symbol, which he enjoyed. Anyone could attract the opposite sex, but he figured you had to be something pretty special to get _both_. And Freddy did get both. You could call him bi, but it wasn't quite right. He didn't care who he saw, so long as they were good looking. Shallow? Yes. But he didn't care. He found more and more that he didn't care about anything these days. The only time he felt alive was when having sex or when on stage. So he needed them both. They were playing more and more gigs, and although he could see that it was taking its toll on Silver, there was no way to stop it.

They were going downhill. _Speeding_ downhill, in an out of control car, getting bigger and faster and all in a whirlwind, and the world blurred past them but he knew it was irrevocably going to end in a crash. A climax. A _bang_. And he couldn't wait for that day. He wondered if the others knew this, if they felt the same. They'd all changed a lot since the band had started.

Zack was losing the feeling for the band. He wanted to go home, to Summer, and start a family. She disapproved of all this, Freddy knew, and he wanted to hit some sense into her. He wanted _Zack_ to hit some sense into her. She didn't like the drugs on offer, the girls, the alcohol. But she didn't have to worry. Zack was too boring to play away; he still believed it was all about the music. Freddy smirked slightly and rolled over, not bothering to pull the blankets over him. Let the blonde sleep. For now, at least. Zack's eyes had been opened lately, however, and he wasn't liking what he saw.

He was going to quit, but Freddy knew he wouldn't do it for a while. Lay the old guilt trip on him. Let him know that the band couldn't go on without him. Make him feel needed. The trick worked every time Zack opened his mouth to quit. And Freddy saw the fear in his eyes, fear of hurting Freddy, of losing Freddy as a friend, and Freddy couldn't help but be amused by the fact that Zack still thought of him as a 'friend'. They hadn't been friends in years.

And then there was Matt. Matt had used to be the clown, the joker of the band. He'd been always laughing, with his eyes as well as his mouth, and so good looking. Auburn hair falling over his eyes, bright blue eyes that had got him more than one comparison to Kurt Cobain, and of course, the famous ever laughing mouth. Matt was second only to Freddy in terms of looks and popularity. Personality wise, Matt could probably kick Freddy's ass. Personality wise, a_nyone_ could kick Freddy's ass.

Victor was quiet as ever, but now he was different. More introverted. Hiding something. He was scared. Scared of what they had all become. Of what they were all_ going_ to become.He, too, knew about the downhill ride, but instead of enjoying the thrill, as Freddy was, Victor was dreading the end of it. He wasn't a rock star. He'd never heard of the motto you had to learn, know, feel – _live fast, die young_. Victor wanted to walk slowly through life and live to be an old man. Freddy simply could not see the attraction. Victor did not want to burn out. And he knew now that he had no choice.

Finally, there was Silver. One of the only ones that Freddy could understand – no, not understand – _identify with_. She had long ash blonde hair and a slim, willowy figure. Her gray eyes could be so cold, like chips of ice, or warm and welcoming like pools of murky water. No one knew Silver, although many thought they did. They stereotyped her, because she was blonde, but Silver wasn't like that. She was talented. She was intelligent. She was different. Freddy knew that _she_ was enjoying the ride. Silver was the only girl Freddy had wanted, but knew he couldn't get. Her, and Katie. Perhaps they did have more in common than he'd thought.

He also thought that Silver had a heroine addiction. He didn't know, didn't want to know. It wasn't _his_ problem, it was hers. Hell, it might not even be a problem. If she wanted that, if that was how _she_ came alive, he'd let her. None of his business.

But this girl, right here, right now, right next to him... she _was_ his business.

"Hey." He shook her, lightly at first, but harder as she tried to play games. Tried to wake up relaxed, stretching her arms, smiling at him. He didn't want that. Didn't want her to wake up like that. _Start as you mean to go on, right?_ Her eyes flew open as he carried on shaking her, and he tried not to wince at the washed out pale blue color. "Hey," he repeated, and now her good mood was completely lost. She clutched the blankets to her chest, making an attempt at decency, and Freddy rolled his eyes. "I've seen it all before, sugar."

She smiled at the pet name, not knowing that it didn't mean anything, it was his usual habit, and fluttered her eyes at him. "Hungry for more, sweetie?" she simpered, laying a hand on his arm, and Freddy looked down at it, disgusted.

"No, I'm not," he snapped, firmly removing her arm. "Get lost."

Her expression changed in a second, from seductive to confused, and she opened her eyes even wider. "What are you talking about?" she asked sweetly, and her fake high pitched voice grated on his ears. She tried again to entice him, laying back on the bed and showing herself off, and now any attraction Freddy might have felt was gone. All he now felt was repulsion.

"It's not that hard to understand," he said harshly. "Cover yourself up." He threw her clothes at her, standing up and walking into the shower room. Silver was already there, carefully applying her make up, and she didn't even blink at the sight of his naked body. Living together, you saw a lot of each other.

"So who's your latest?" she asked, not taking her eyes away from her perfect reflection in the mirror, and Freddy grimaced.

"Some blonde kid."

This got her attention, and she turned to face him, mouth a thin line of disapproval. "'Kid'? Freddy, you better not be screwin' with the young 'uns again." At twenty, it was hard for him to find 'young 'uns' as she called them, but he'd had his moments in the past. His excuse was that he hadn't known their age at the time, that they'd lied to him – or so his manager said.

"Hell, Silver, get a life," he retorted, climbing into the shower. "I haven't touched 'em since the last one. I'm not a paedo, so ignore what the press say. This one's eighteen." _Or so she says_. To avoid Silver's nagging, he added the last line only in his head, but the thought did give him some concern. Silver seemed to have read his mind, but she still went back to the mirror.

"I think you'd better check first, in future," she said sharply, examining her flawless skin, and Freddy rolled his eyes. She was getting to him lately, they all were, and he wasn't too sure why. Just something about them, about _everyone_, irritated him immensely, and he was beginning to struggle to control his temper. She caught his expression out of the corner of his eye and whirled around. "Don't give me that look, Freddy Jones," she snapped, getting herself worked up for a major go at him. "I don't know who you think you are these days, but we need you in this band, you hear me? Although you may not be as popular as you like ter think, with your goddamn ego, you _do_ make this band and I know fer a fact that no way as many people would come ter see us if you go."

He felt the familiar smirk twisting up at this lips, and it made his face ache through force of habit. Many thought he had what they called 'selective hearing', which meant he only heard what he wanted to hear, but that wasn't true – he just pretended that he could only hear the good parts. The other parts were pushed to the back of his mind and locked up in a heavy wooden box, the part with cold iron nails poking through.

"Don't you give me that look," Silver hissed again, getting frustrated now, and Freddy knew she needed her fix. He felt powerful, now he knew that, like he had something over her. She didn't know that _he_ knew. Or maybe she did. Either way, she needed something, and he didn't. Not right now, anyway. He felt an insane kind of laughter bubbling up inside him and squashed it flat. Now was definitely not the time. Now was the time to be submissive, meek.

"Sorry, Silver," he whispered insincerely, turning on the shower and letting the burning hot water immerse him in both pain and joy. He briefly closed his eyes, not caring whether she was still there or not, and relaxed for the first time in he didn't know how long.

Until freezing cold water gushed over him. His eyes flew open, just as the blonde girl's had done when he'd shaken her awake this morning, and a strangled yelp escaped his mouth, ripping up from his throat. The goosebumps rose immediately on his skin, and all he could think was _cold cold ice it must be ice where the hell who the hell_ -

"_Silver?_" He didn't realize he'd spoken until he saw her glaring at him, with one hand on the shower taps. "What the hell are you doing?" he shouted, not getting over the shock of the icy water and – yes, was that a flicker of amusement in those cold gray eyes?

"First of all, Freddy Jones, I know you well enough ter know when you're bein' sarcastic, and I don't appreciate that bein' used on me. So don't apologize unless you mean it, got it?" She did, Freddy admitted to himself, know him well enough to tell, and he should've known that. He knew her well enough to know what she did and didn't like – or at least, he hoped he did – and so, by rights, he should assume that she knew the same. He didn't think that made any sense, but neither did he.

"Alright," he said quietly, trying to calm her in much the same manner as you would a wild horse. He wondered if she was trying to quit, quit the drugs that seemed to control her more and more these days, although he could still see so much of the 'old' Silver in her. In fact, all the drugs did was enhance the personality she already had, making her more Silver than the actual Silver. "Okay, Silver, you're right. I should have known that. Now if you don't mind, _can you turn the goddamn shower back on?_"

"Not until you get rid of that blonde chick," Silver replied evenly, trying just as hard as he was to keep her temper under control. "I had ter get rid of her the last time, whichever one it was, and let me tell you, that is not a job I enjoy. Nor do the rest of the band, so I think you should do it. Now. And then I'll let you have your wonderful shower, right? But get her away from us. We don't want some chick crying all over the tour bus."

Freddy opened his mouth to argue but realized that he knew she was right. If that had been anyone else he would not have stood for it, and would have told them so in no uncertain terms. "Fine," he muttered, hating the defeatist tone in his voice and knowing that Silver had won this fight, and that it wasn't just about the blonde girl – whose name, he now realized, neither of them knew. Silver gave him that smug little smile that he both loved and hated and, once again, turned back to the mirror. He was on his way out, just about to leave the room in fact, when that sudden movement caught his eye, and the words were out, hanging in the air between them, before Freddy even knew they'd existed.

"Silver, you're bloody perfect and you know it, so stop being so damn vain and looking in the mirror non stop." The words gave him a certain thrill, not one he could explain to anyone who didn't know, who wasn't _in_ their relationship, who wasn't a part of it. Silver was the only one who could have understood, and at this minute in time she was the last person he was going to explain to. The words should not have been out, should not have left him. It was that damn retort that you were supposed to bite back, that would have been so satisfying to say but even worse once the consequences came into play. But he'd broken the unspoken rule and set the words free, and now there'd be hell to pay.

And Silver hadn't even gotten her fix.

She spun round to look at him so fast that he thought her neck was going to snap, and it was times like this that you could really appreciate the natural grace and poise that had offered her such a great career in ballet, even if it had been one she'd immediately disregarded. Her eyes were flashing that shiny, hard, _cold_ silver color to match her name, and two scarlet patches of color were staining her cheeks, warning him that she was really angry, the symbol like a cobra raising it's hood and swaying to and fro, just before it was about to strike. Freddy couldn't help feeling a delicious tingle working its way up from his feet, and he knew that as much as he hated and dreaded and fought to avoid their fights (was fighting to avoid a fight not irony? Did it not defeat the object?) he enjoyed them, on some subconscious level.

Perhaps, it was that rare thing called _chemistry_. Whatever it was, he was about to get his _own_ fix, and a great big overdose, too, if not careful. The sensible part of him, however small that was, was screaming at him to be _careful_, to _wait_, to watch what he said, but the main part was roaring over that, _don't listen don't listen you want this you need this and she won't stop she won't care WHY SHOULD YOU?_

Yes, Freddy whispered, the excited terrified feeling filling him now the same as he got just before a dangerous theme park ride, the same mix of apprehension and _adrenaline_. Yes, she won't care. She wouldn't stop for you. So there is no good reason why you should do the same for her. _Give as good as you get, Spazzy_. The old nickname hadn't sprung to mind in years, and perhaps it was a sign, perhaps it was a warning, but whatever it was it did the same thing – it fueled his anger and gave him a reason for the fists he now found he was clenching.

"Don't you dare call me perfect, Freddy," she replied calmly, and it was the calm before the storm, no doubt. "You wouldn't know what perfect means. You have no idea. you think you have perfection, with your _perfect_ life and your _perfect_ looks and your _perfect_ girls? Don't give me that. You have no idea," she repeated, and deep down in the soulless depths of her eerily silvery-blue eyes he thought – imagined? hoped? feared? – that he could see the same enjoyment in them that he felt racing through him right now.

"Oh, yeah?" he replied, knowing that one was required of him, and he could feel the detestable sneer that they both hated begin to possess his mouth and raise the lips in a superior expression, showing his teeth. "I don't know what you think perfect is, darlin', but you've certainly got a warped idea. My life may not be perfection but let me assure you, sugar, it's pretty damn near." As soon as the words left his mouth he heard the lie, ring out clear and through and through, but only a few seconds later and he began to believe them, to convince himself. Who _wouldn't_ want to be Freddy Jones? He was doing what he loved; playing music and sleeping with hot girls and guys, and for a minute he even managed to forget about the downhill ride.

A laugh escaped Silver, bubbling up like clear water from an underground spring, and the sound was so unusual he thought for a moment he'd imagined it, until he heard the undertones of sarcasm in it. "_You?_" she gasped, one hand on the sink basin for support. "You think _your_ life is perfect? Oh, my. Nowhere near, Jones, nowhere near."

Freddy was mad. How _dare_ she laugh at him? He was surprised, and grateful, that they hadn't woken the other members of the band up, but they were all heavy sleepers and maybe didn't care anymore. "Don't – laugh – at me," he snarled, struggling to contain the furious anger he'd so foolishly released, thinking it good at first. Now, of course, he regretted it.

"I don't see why not," Silver shot back and now he realized what had been so strange about her laugh: although it had been genuine, there had been not one ounce of humor in it. "You think your life is perfect?" she repeated, and a mirthless smile crossed her full lips. "Alright then. Allow me ter enlighten you, Jones." Freddy braced himself, knowing what was coming – Silver, at her most vicious. It was early in the morning, she hadn't had caffeine or heroine and not only that but there was still 'some blonde chick' on the bus.

"Go on, then," he said, in a low voice, resisting the urge to simply walk away and knowing that if he did that, this whole situation would be beyond repair. Both of them needed something, but this wasn't it. The tension in the air could have been bottled and sold as an explosive, and Freddy knew the match was about to be lit. "Enlighten me."

"You couldn't see perfect if it hit you in the face," she spat vehemently, and the sheer hate behind her words astounded him. "You _used_ to have the perfect life, I know that, but then you gave it all up. You went to that private snob school, you had the best education, you had friends an' music from an early age. You even had a loving family. But then, of course, you gave it all up, Jones. Don't ask me why – how the _hell_ could I know? – but for some insane reason, you did. You joined this stupid band that's goin' nowhere except downhill, you smoke, drink, sleep around, most likely gotten yourself HIV. You could have twenty seven kids and you wouldn't even know. I mean, look at you! I bet you're too drunk to even remember half the girls or guys you've screwed. You're a long way from perfect, Freddy," she whispered, sounding almost sad now. Freddy felt sick. She was right. He'd given it all up.

It was like that moment where you realize that everyone you hate is better than you. That the rollercoaster you're on is out of control. That your girlfriend has been cheating on you with your best friend. But it was worse than that. It was like all of those moments put together and multiplied by a hundred, a thousand, a _million_. Freddy felt like crying, an emotion he hadn't felt in years. He turned, slowly, dizzily, and reached for the door handle. "I, I'm just going to, to go sit down," he murmured half-heartedly, and the undisguised self-loathing in his voice was more than evident.

"Oh, Freddy." He heard Silver's voice from far away, as though he was somewhere else, some _one_ else, floating in the air and watching the scene from above. He ignored her, and continued to move slowly, with heavy limbs, like he was underwater. It was a strange sensation, although not altogether an unpleasant one, and his growing feeling of apathy was now threatening to take over completely. He left the room but looked back, giving her a second chance.

The disappointment and grief surged over him like a wave as he saw her gulping down the white powder that she'd eagerly lifted out of the package, between finger and thumb.

* * *

_To be continued..._


End file.
